by Dawn Tamayo
“What is your name?” She looked at him intently taking in his broad frame and intense dark eyes again. Even though his hair was cut short she could still see the hint of a wave in it, and she wondered if his tanned skin ever looked paler, or was it always the colour of cappuccino coffee? She looked at his hands still holding his police hat - they looked big and strong.
“Sergeant Sanchez.” He said showing her the name badge on his dark blue uniform.
“Thank you Sergeant Sanchez. Thank you for helping me.” Helen smiled warmly at him, then looked serious again. “So what happened to me?”
“I don’t know. I was hoping you could tell me that.”
Helen shrugged, she would if she could but she couldn’t remember anything, and it scared her.
Seeing the flash of fear in Helen’s eyes Romero quickly interrupted her thoughts, “I saw you walking near the promenade by Poniente beach, you were stumbling like you were very drunk. You looked confused and then you fainted.” He watched as Helen seemed to take in what he said.
She ran her fingers through her hair feeling it matted with blood and looked at him with alarm. “Did I hit my head?”
It was all Romero could do to keep his hands where they were - for whatever reason he couldn’t understand, every fibre in his body wanted to reach out to this vulnerable beautiful stranger, and take her into his arms again to soothe away her fears. He had never seen such beautiful pleading eyes before, and they reached right inside of him. A few moments ago he thought she had blue eyes, but now she was talking to him, intensely trying to concentrate and remember whatever she could, he could have sworn they were more green than blue now. “I don’t know. You must have hit your head before you fainted because you already had the head wound when I caught you.”
Romero watched as the nurse finished attaching the drip to Helen’s arm, and then he took out his little notebook and pen from his pocket. “Do you remember anything? I think you walked up to the road from the beach. You were wet and you weren’t wearing any shoes. I looked for your bag but I couldn’t find one anywhere near you. Does this make any sense to you?”
“No, I can’t remember anything. I know you look familiar, but I don’t know why. Everything else is….. just darkness. I don’t remember a thing.”
“I suppose I must have been the first person you saw since your head injury, and then you collapsed. Maybe that’s why I am familiar to you.” He made a note in his little book.
She nodded thinking that sounded perfectly logical.
“So, was I drunk?” She asked hoping the tiniest piece of information would jog her memory.
“We don’t know yet, we’ll find that out when your blood samples come back.” He said nodding to the tray with the vials of blood the nurse was carrying out of the door, “But you seem sober enough to me right now.”
“I just wish I could remember!” She said wondering why there was nothing in her head apart from a black fuzziness and the face of this very attractive policeman.
“Stay here, I will be back in a minute, I am just going to ask the hospital administrator to phone the British Embassy. They will need to get someone down here to help you. I’m assuming you are British?”
“I guess so.” Helen said shrugging her shoulders, his guess was as good as hers!
Helen watched Sergeant Sanchez walk out the room and pulled her legs up to her chest and held them tightly in her arms. Even though the hospital was warm she felt cold. Then for the first time it occurred to her that she was only wearing a tiny flimsy gold coloured dress. She wondered if she had intended to leave wherever she was looking like that. Did she usually go out dressed in something that looked like not much more than a nightdress? Quickly she grabbed the blanket from the bottom of the bed and pulled it around her shoulders covering herself the best she could. She knew she must have looked a sight, there wasn’t a mirror in the room which was just as well because she could feel her hair knotted and matted with the blood, and her skin itched from the sand and salt. She grimaced wishing she didn’t looked like she had been dragged through the garden pond followed by a hedge backwards. She wondered what the sexy Spanish policeman was thinking about that!
Helen woke up to a big hand stroking her shoulder gently. She could feel it was hard and firm but in her half-asleep haze it felt reassuringly gentle and warm. She opened her eyes to see Sergeant Sanchez standing over her and she jumped not expecting him to be so close.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Romero said as he quickly took a step back. He had walked back in to find Helen alone, sleeping curled up in a ball on the hospital bed. A Blanket was tightly wrapped around he shoulders but her long slender legs were exposed by the tiny piece of fabric she was wearing. He took another blanket and laid it gently over her. Romero looked at Helen, realising that now her hair was drying it wasn’t dark, but a light brown colour more like caramel. He touched the ends gently and twisted a few strands between his fingers as he watched her sleeping; the last time he saw her with her eyes closed was when she was draped in his arms and fear gripped at him in case something was seriously wrong and maybe he wouldn’t make it to the hospital in time. But this time he could see she was perfectly comfortable, just exhausted. He didn’t want to wake her but at the same time he didn’t want her to wake up and find him gone without a parting word - she had asked him to stay after all, and he didn’t want her to think that he had abandoned her.
Helen looked around the room and remembered where she was. She sighed thankfully, at least she had one memory now - she knew that she was in the hospital.
“Do you remember me?” Romero asked not being sure just how bad her head injury really was.
“Yes, you’re Sergeant Sanchez.”
“Very good.” He said teasingly like he was praising a little child, making her laugh. “I have to go now but someone from the British Embassy will be here for you later today. The Doctor wants to keep you in for the rest of the night to keep an eye on your head.” His heavy Spanish accent was thick and strong and Helen watched his mouth move as he spoke.
She didn’t want him to go but she could see he was tired and it was beginning to get light outside. She realised he must have been up all night too.
“Will you come back tomorrow, I mean later?” She asked hopefully, not wanting to be alone - everyone else felt like a stranger to her, but not Sergeant Sanchez.
He avoided her question, “I will be checking to see if anyone has reported you missing, and let’s hope we can get you home soon, wherever that may be.”
“So where will I go when they release me?” Helen asked, suddenly realising she had no idea where to go or what to do, she didn’t even have any money on her.
“Someone from the British Embassy will sort that out for you tomorrow,” Romero looked at his watch, “well later today. Go back to sleep for now, maybe you will remember something when you wake up later, the mind is a strange thing.”
Helen smiled sleepily at Romero and took his outstretched hand to shake it; it felt warm and solid against her soft skin. Reluctantly she let him go and closed her eyes again hoping he was right, maybe she would remember more later today.
Sergeant Romero Sanchez walked out of the hospital feeling troubled - he had no idea who the woman was lying on the hospital bed, a single name of Helen was not enough, and he didn’t like unanswered questions. Even though his body was crying out for his own bed he knew he couldn’t go there just yet. Romero drove to the police station to hand in his paperwork explaining why it was late, then he went over to the missing person’s desk giving the officer on duty Helen’s details and a full description, hoping that he would find a matching entry on the system already.
“Female, five foot five, with long light brown hair, no, more caramel coloured really. Early to middle twenties, she has blue eyes but sometimes they look green. Medium build, very toned, curves in the right place.” He saw the officer give him a funny look as he tapped away entering Helen’s details into the computer d
atabase system and he joked, “You know what I mean!” Then Romero turned serious again, “Her native language is English, and she has a gold chain on her ankle saying Helen, so we are assuming her name is Helen. Here, I have a photograph of her on my phone, it’s not a good one because she’s not in a good way at the moment, but it will have to do for the meantime.” He said tapping into his phone and emailing across her photograph to the police officer.
The officer opened Romero’s email with Helen’s photograph and gave him a grin which Romero chose to ignore. “Yes Sergeant. I’ll run a match on her and let you know if I get anything, it shouldn’t take too long. Who do you want me to report back to with the results?”
“Me. Call me immediately on my mobile phone when you get something.” Romero said walking over to a computer desk to type up his report on Helen.
It was eight a.m. by the time Romero had finished his report. On his way out of the police station he checked in with the missing person’s desk again but no match had been found yet. Romero walked back to his car intent on heading home, he had to be on duty again at four o’clock that afternoon and he needed to get some serious sleep in before then. But something still troubled him about Helen; how did she get that head wound? Surely someone should have noticed she was missing? But then again maybe not yet, it was still early in the morning by holiday-maker’s standards. Was that a nightdress she was wearing or had she intentionally gone out in that little dress? He had seen a lot less on some women when they were clubbing, it was possible that was what she thought passed for a dress to go out in! Or maybe they were her working clothes! Romero didn’t like to think it, but there was always the possibility that she was a prostitute - her little dress was certainly provocative enough for that. Was she there on holiday or did she live somewhere nearby? Had this all come about from a stupid drunken night out, or something worse? Had she been out of her head on drugs? He had so many questions, and he didn’t like it when he didn’t have any answers.
CHAPTER TWO
Helen awoke with a stomping headache. The nurse was putting a tray of food on the table at the bottom of her bed and her stomach growled with hunger.
“There are some spare clothes for you here. Go have a shower and then come back and eat something.” The nurse detached her drip and smiled sympathetically at her.
Gratefully she accepted the clothes and headed off to the shower.
When Helen looked at herself in the mirror hanging from the back of the shower-room door she was shocked. She knew she must have been a mess, she certainly felt it, but she wasn’t ready for what she saw - her hair was a matted mess of blood and sand, and blood was smeared near her temple. Her eyes had dark circles under them and her skin looked an unhealthy shade of pale. There was dirt and sand all over her body, and her little dress, if that was what she could call it, was filthy. She stepped into the warm water and let it sooth her skin feeling the dirt wash away. She glanced at the tiny piece of fabric she had taken off and thrown on the floor - she hoped it was in fact her nightdress and not that she had thought it was a perfectly suitable outfit to go clubbing in! Helen let the water wash away the sand and dirt as she washed her hair with the shampoo the hospital had given her, then she ran her fingers through it leaving it to hang freely down her back to dry naturally.
Helen pulled on the clean clothes. She was grateful to the nurse for them, but she couldn’t help wishing for something a little more colourful than the grey tracksuit bottoms and white t-shirt she was now wearing. She might not remember much about herself but she did know that she really wanted a decent hair dryer and some moisturising cream!
Helen went back into her little hospital room and eagerly ate her breakfast, hoping that someone from the British Embassy would get there soon. She jumped a little when she heard the door open and looked up to see the doctor walk in.
“Good morning Helen.” He said in his strong Spanish accent.
She smiled back at him as she finished her mouthful of food.
“Have you remembered anything more this morning?” He asked hopefully.
She shook her head, “No, everything is still blank. I remember waking up in here with you and the policeman, but that is it. Do you know what happened to me?”
“No, not really. We do know you were not drunk, in fact you had hardly any alcohol in your system at all. And there were no trace of any drugs either. So we can rule out drink and drugs. You do have a nasty cut on your head though.”
That much Helen did know, she could feel the continuous stomping pain - she had examined it when she was in the shower and she could see the neat row of stitches underneath the big gauze which covered it. Helen sighed disappointed. For a moment she had hoped the doctor had come in to tell her they had found out who she was and someone was on their way to get her. But it seemed there was no such luck.
“Sergeant Sanchez said he thought he saw you walking up from the beach before you collapsed, other than that we don’t know anything at all.”
“What about my memory, will it come back? Will I be able to remember anything?” She asked desperate for something to hold on to.
“That is hard to say. We are going to send you for a scan now and then we will know more after that. But if your scan comes back all clear then there is no reason why you shouldn’t remember things when you are ready to. Sometimes the mind shuts down to protect our body, and when it is ready it will come back. But when that will be, I cannot say.”
Helen sighed, that wasn’t really what she wanted to hear but at least she should probably get it back at some point.
“Is there any news from the policeman yet?” Helen asked.
“Not yet. Now go with the nurse for your scan and I will be back before my shift ends to let you know how you’re doing.”
Helen did as she was told.
Sergeant Romero Sanchez had fallen asleep as soon as his head hit his pillow. His sleep had been deep but not without interruptions. His mobile phone had woken him up and he found a message from the missing person’s desk - the officer had gone through all the missing persons registered in Spain and no one matching Helen’s description had come up. When Romero went back to sleep, his dreams were consumed by the face of the beautiful mysterious woman.
When Romero finally woke up he dressed in a fresh uniform and headed out to a café nearby to get a bite to eat before his shift began. Looking at the time he decided to let his curiosity get the better of him and stop by the hospital before he went to work - he wondered what the doctor’s test result showed, they should’ve had a report waiting for him by now, and maybe after a bit more sleep Helen would remember what happened.
Romero walked through the hospital corridors making his way to Helen’s room. He was so eager to get to her that he didn’t notice the pretty nurses stopping to eye him up and down as he passed. He knocked briefly on the door and pushed it open walking inside, but he stopped suddenly as he saw Helen standing by the hospital window looking outside; her smooth caramel hair hung neatly down her back to her shoulder blades, shining against the sun. Slowly Helen turned around and Romero was instantly struck by her beauty; her eyes were a deep blue colour now and her skin was smooth with a sprinkling of freckles - finally a healthy colour was returning to her pale cheeks. This morning he had suspected she was a beauty hiding behind the caked mud and blood; with eyes as beautiful as hers how could she not be? But now seeing her freshly showered with no make-up on standing alone by the window, he felt a stirring inside him and thought he had never seen anyone so beautiful before. Just as he thought he could control and suppress the unfamiliar feeling she caused, Helen looked at him and smiled, taking his breath away and re-awakened those stirring feelings again.
“Sergeant Sanchez, what a nice surprise.” she said happy to see Romero walk in. She moved away from the large window - she didn’t know how long she had been standing by the it, lost in thought and trying to take in this morning’s events.
“Señorita.” Romero finally said after findi
ng himself speechless for once, something he had never been accused of before.
“Do you have some news for me? Or do you need to ask me some more questions?” Helen said hoping for something more than she had so far.
“I am afraid no one has reported you missing yet. Not in Spain at least. However it is early days, usually you have to be missing for more than twenty four hours before a report can be filed officially, so maybe tomorrow.” He said wanting to give her some hope. “Have you remembered anything more, it would be good if we had some more information to work with.”
He took the seat Helen offered him next to the window as she sat down on the seat on the other side of the small table.
Helen liked to hear the sound of his voice: apart from being just about the only thing familiar to her, she liked how it sounded - it wasn’t just because of the seductive Spanish accent, the other doctors and nurses spoke with a similar accent too. No, Sergeant Sanchez’s voice seemed different - it was deep and smooth, and she couldn’t work out how even though it calmed her it also evoked a fluttering feeling deep down inside her which was anything but calming. She thought she could listen to him speaking all day.
“The doctor had some good news, he said that my head injury is just superficial and I should get my memory back at some point.”
“That’s good.” He smiled at her, “Did he say when?”
She shook her head, “No.”
“Anything else?”
“Well the toxicology test results came back to say that I had no drugs and hardly any alcohol in my system, so that was good.” She hesitated a moment and blushed, then continued knowing that anything she could tell him would give him more of a chance of getting her home, wherever home might be, “Also examinations show that I am not pregnant and I have no biological children.”
